


The Making of a Rebel

by Amilyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Defection, Enemies to Friends, Fish out of Water, Gen, M/M, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amilyn/pseuds/Amilyn
Summary: A series of shorts as Kallus joins, assesses, and adjusts to life with the Rebellion.





	1. Hyperspace Jumps and Foodstuffs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingdomheartslover](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kingdomheartslover), [TheNightFury](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightFury/gifts).



> Written for kingdomheartsloversstuff in the RebelsGiftExchange MaytheFourthBeWithYou Exchange #rebelsfourthexchange. Thanks to oldtoadwoman for the quick proofreading.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus calculates their flight path from Atollon to Yavin.

The _Ghost_ pulled out of hyperspace so smoothly Kallus barely felt it.

Thrawn's assessment of Hera Syndulla as the best pilot in the Rebellion had not been hyperbole. Kallus had never been on a ship of any size that moved like this one.

He looked out the portal at the stars and closed his eyes as they glided into hyperspace again. Triangulating the star maps he'd memorized in the Imperial Security Bureau, shifting and rotating them in his head, he saw where they'd paused in their zig-zag journey to the Rebel Base. The past three jumps had been random enough that, even now, the final destination was dependent on the number of remaining jumps.

Three more jumps in this pattern, Kallus calculated, would put them on Dantooine.

Four more, and they would land on Alderaan. The Organas, traitors--no, _rebels_ \--that they were, would never risk the planet that directly. They certainly knew that Alderaan was already under close scrutiny, the ISB and Emperor just waiting for that little brat… _courageous, outspoken firebrand_ of a Princess-Senator mouthing off daily in the Galactic Senate to slip up.

Kallus didn't think she would.

No, he suspected that there would be five or six jumps, and that meant they were headed for Naalol or Yavin. Unless the Rebellion was foolhardy enough to set up base in the oceans of Manaan.

He sighed. Mountains, jungle, or oceans, following a desert. The planets were all off main hyperspace and trade routes, of significant size, and barely populated. They were what he'd have chosen for a location, but...the climates. He shuddered. What would they do once these bases were burned? Settle on an ice ball like Hoth?

Zeb clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past, carrying food to the temporary bunkroom set up in the hold for the survivors of the Battle of Atollon.

Wherever these lunatics went, wherever they and Zeb led, he was going to follow, even if he drowned or froze.

"Want me to get another box of provisions?"

Zeb scoffed, "These are the last ones. We'll just make them last." Kallus could recognize that smile, once so menacing, as warm.

He shook his head. Or starved, apparently.

How had these people ever been winning against him and other Imperial elites?

***


	2. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus observes the crew as they arrive at Yavin.

By the time they slid out of the sixth jump, the _Ghost_ was getting ripe.

Kallus was please to see the star configuration matched the charts he'd memorized for the region near Yavin.

Even knowing they were nearing their final destination did not assuage his discomfort. He was ISB. He'd committed genocide against the Lasat, he was an Imperial, through and through. A small voice said they should execute him on arrival.

It's what the Empire would do.

And there was Zeb's huge, rough hand, heavy and reassuring on his shoulder again.

"If I can forgive you, they can too." The rumble of the voice was brief before Zeb lumbered down the corridor, intent on some task or other.

How had Kallus ever missed the warmth a Lasat could convey with a single gaze? He'd been so narrow-minded. So singly cruel.

As he hung his head, reflecting, he saw _them_ stop in the corridor.

Captain Syndulla and the Jedi Kanan Jarrus. They were discussing landing orders, disembarkment, refueling, and resupplying of the _Ghost_.

They were standing close, their postures entirely relaxed. He kept his head down, monitoring from the corner of his eye. The backs of their hands were brushing. Again.

The conversation was entirely ship's business, their tones entirely professional, and yet...even blind, Jarrus tilted his head towards his captain _just so_. Those mannerisms were consistent every time he saw them.

Kallus didn't have to be ISB to recognize flirting.

Was this the kind of military "structure" and "discipline" he'd be joining?

Syndulla placed a hand on Jarrus's shoulder and he returned the gesture.

Kallus was focused enough that Zeb would have startled him had Kallus not recognized the feel of returning heavy footsteps on the deck plates a second before Zeb's hand landed on his shoulder.

"Ready to set up disembarkment groups?"

Kallus met Zeb's eyes. That kindness, that spark of humor, it kept reminding him he was wanted here, even as he marvelled at being given a leadership role with people he'd tried to kill so recently.

"Sure." He tilted his chin, pointing to where Syndulla and Jarrus had just been. "Those two…"

Zeb pointed as well. "Hera and Kanan?"

"Yeah...are they...in a relationship?"

Zeb shrugged. "Well, she's the captain and pilot and he's the mission leader planetside, so they've been working partners for years, if that's what you mean."

He narrowed his eyes. Surely Garazeb was not deliberately misunderstanding. "No," he said slowly, "I'm asking if they're in a romantic relationship." _Despite line of command,_ he didn't add.

Zeb laughed out loud and clapped him on the back. "Of course not! We're professionals. You coming?"

Kallus stared after him for a moment, then shook his head. It was _right_ under their noses. Probably happening in the bunk or cabin next door, if his observations during ship's night were anything to go by.

What hope did these Rebels have of beating the Galactic empire if they couldn't even see what was happening on a tiny ship?

It was clear now. He was going to die with them.

***


End file.
